Riverdance @ The Palace Theatre, 3/4/11

ALBANY – The dry-ice machine pumps out billows of steam as the music builds, and backlighting casts the figures into silhouette. Long-legged and skittish, they stamp like wild horses and leap like gazelles. But they are a species unto themselves, these Irish dancers in the mist.

After 17 years and more than 10,000 performances of “Riverdance,” audiences worldwide have come face to face with this not-so-shy creature. But familiarity has not bred contempt. The show, onstage at the Palace Theatre this weekend, may be the mother of a thousand spectacles, from “Lord of the Dance” to “Bellydance Superstars,” but it’s also the most beloved.

It’s not hard to see why, even after multiple viewings. Who among us can resist the pull of the powerful rhythm of live music and pounding feet? That is the simple, pure heart of “Riverdance,” which remains surprisingly free of special effects. Its wizardry is all flesh and blood—the 18 high-stepping dancers, the warbling singers and the five splendid musicians.

The down side—or, for some, the charm—lies in the show’s predictability. Circles of dancers here, lines of dancers there, musical interludes alternating with ensemble numbers—it’s all as comfortably symmetrical as the skeletal narrative, which balances images of homeland and nature in the first act with overseas journeys and urban sparkle in the second. The men and women are perfectly and predictably balanced as well—the men are full of fire and snap, while the women swing their glossy manes and float on coltish legs.

“Trading Taps,” one of the show’s most endearing and simultaneously awe-inspiring numbers, sets Irish and American dancers against each other in a friendly tap-off. The Irish have intensity and precision on their side; the Americans (Dewitt Fleming, Jr. and Michael E. Wood) boast spontaneity, inventiveness and the ability to use their entire bodies, not just their lower halves. The opponents’ sly send-ups of each other’s styles get big laughs.

By contrast, flamenco dancer Marita Martinez-Rey, as impressively undulant as she is, seems out of place. Earlier incarnations of the show also featured the Moscow Folk Ballet, and the wider array of international influences made sense. Without that context, Martinez-Rey is like a dash of paprika thrown into a pot of porridge.

Chloey Turner, lead female soloist on Friday evening, is very lithe and very blonde, but looks as if she’s just going through the motions. Her counterpart, Craig Ashurst, has more sizzle, leading the men in staccato sequences full of passion and punch. Together, Turner and Ashurst have less chemistry than percussionist Mark Alfred and fiddler Pat Mangan, whose rousing duets feel fresh and unrehearsed, even after all this time.